


Tempests and Teacups

by cuttooth



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Ace characters talk about movie sex scenes, Asexual Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Discussion of Sexual Content, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Mention of past sexual experiences, Movie Night, Sex Averse Martin, Sex Neutral Jon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:22:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23918227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuttooth/pseuds/cuttooth
Summary: “Really though,” Jon says, wrinkling his nose. “Do people actually just...ravish each other out of nowhere like that? Or is it a Hollywood thing, like never saying goodbye at the end of a phone call?”*Written for Aspec Martin Week, for the prompt: Rainstorm. In which Jon has the same opinions I do about movie sex scenes, and Martin is amused.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 73
Kudos: 478
Collections: Aspec Martin Blackwood Week





	Tempests and Teacups

**Author's Note:**

> I'm slowly polishing up and moving over the short fics I wrote for the wonderful Aspec Martin Week event, so here's the first.
> 
> Be aware that this contains a vague, non-graphic description of a movie sex scene, as well as very brief mention of Jon having past sexual experiences that were regrettable but non-harmful.

There are many wonderful things about being in a relationship with Jonathan Sims. He’s brilliant, affectionate, thoughtful, and he cooks the most delicious chicken tagine that Martin’s ever eaten. He even insists on washing the dishes.

Of course there are not so good things in any relationship. Jon tends to get wrapped up in his work and forget about the time, and he leaves his socks everywhere, and—and Martin thinks this with all the love in the world—he’s a bit of a film snob. 

Back when they first knew each other, if you had asked Martin to guess Jon’s taste in films, he probably would have assumed that he only watched dry documentaries, all black-and-white newsreel footage and monotone narration. In point of fact, Jon’s cinematic interests tend more towards the artsy and obscure. He has a passion for esoteric seventies horror films and avant garde dramas, as well as an impressive knowledge of the silent film era. 

Martin’s own preferences are rather different. He grew up on old Technicolor musicals and romantic comedies from Hollywood’s golden era; some of his best memories of his mum are Sunday afternoons on the sofa with tea and biscuits, watching Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers glide elegantly across the screen. He’s also fond of period dramas, all lush costuming and repressed ardor and letters read by candlelight. 

With such different tastes, compromise is key to a successful movie night. The rules are simple. One: alternate who picks the film each week. Two: no complaints about the other person’s choice, though vetoing is allowed; they introduced that rule after Martin almost had a panic attack trying to sit through _The Crawling Ones,_ and there’s been no more Lagorio since then. Three: whoever doesn’t choose the film gets to choose the biscuits. 

It’s a good system, and Martin has jokingly referred to it as their Cultural Exchange, to much eye-rolling from his boyfriend. 

Martin does enjoy many of the films Jon picks, despite some missteps; he doesn’t stop thinking about _Dancer in the Dark_ for a week afterwards. He’ll confess, though, that he usually gets more enjoyment from watching _Jon:_ hunched forward, brow furrowed with intensity, as he devours a brooding Godard piece or Lynchian fever dream. 

For his part, Jon admits that _Singin’ in the Rain_ is a well deserved classic, and that _Pride and Prejudice_ has its moments, he supposes. That one takes up three of Martin’s nights, since the BBC mini-series is the only version that counts, but it’s worth it; a few days after they watch the final part, Martin murmurs “In vain I have struggled” by Jon’s ear in the office, and delights in seeing him blush to the roots of his hair. Anything by Billy Wilder usually goes down well, but Baz Luhrmann is hit and miss; Jon enjoys _Strictly Ballroom_ and _Romeo + Juliet,_ while _Australia_ gets a resounding shrug. 

“I just don’t see the appeal of Hugh Jackman,” he grumbles afterwards. 

“He’s ruggedly charming!” Martin insists; Jon snorts in disbelief. 

Tonight is Martin’s night to pick, and they’re watching _The Snare,_ a Georgian era tale of forbidden romance between a gamekeeper and the society beauty summering at the country estate where he works. It’s full with meaningful silences and long, lingering gazes exchanged, all saturated with a sumptuous orchestral score. Martin hasn’t seen this one before, but he’s enjoying it so far. Jon is...tolerating it. He doesn’t say anything or look at this phone, because that is Just Not Done while watching a film, but he does fidget a bit in his seat, a clear sign that he isn’t quite engaged in the story.

 _Well,_ Martin thinks, _Not every cultural exchange works out._ He’ll sit through a Visconti next week for his sins. 

On screen, a storm catches Olivia unawares as she rides through the woods; thunder booms overhead, and her mount throws her and flees in a panic. She stumbles through the downpour, her riding gown catching on thorns and twigs, until she sees light between the trees ahead. Cut to the secluded cottage where the gamekeeper, William, is eating a simple meal while the storm rages outside. His walls are hung with tools and traps that gleam in the lamplight. He glances out the window, and spots the bedraggled form emerging from the trees, her crimson dress bright in the gloom. 

He leaps to his feet, throws open the door and runs into the rain, where he’s soaked to the skin in an instant. Her eyes widen as she sees him; he pulls her close and leads her inside, safe from the storm, though not from the tempest brewing in their hearts.They stand for long moments facing each other, both breathing hard, the snares glinting symbolically on the wall behind them. Their eyes meet hotly. The orchestra strings swell passionately as Olivia lifts her hands to William’s chest, and tears open his soaked shirt. A beat, and then he rips her bodice open in turn.

“Oh for heaven’s sake!” Jon says, unable to contain himself any longer. 

“Do you want me to skip ahead?” Martin’s never been particularly bothered by sex scenes, as long as they’re safely third person and there’s no way he can imagine being in the action; he just considers them a bit ridiculous. Jon can tolerate a sex scene if—in his words—it Tells The Story, but scenes intended to be titillating he often finds uncomfortable. 

“No, no, it’s fine.” Jon waves a hand. “It’s just...a bit arbitrary, isn’t it?”

“Their clothes are wet, Jon, it’s completely reasonable they’d take them off. They might catch their death otherwise.” Martin keeps a perfectly straight face as he says it, and Jon snorts a laugh, leaning against his shoulder. Martin takes the opportunity to kiss the top of his head, disregarding the action on screen.

“Really though,” Jon says, wrinkling his nose. “Do people actually just...ravish each other out of nowhere like that? Or is it a Hollywood thing, like never saying goodbye at the end of a phone call?”

“You’re asking me?” Martin gives him a playful nudge. “You’re the one here who’s actually had sex.” 

“Yes, well if we’re going by my experiences, sex is something ill-advised that you do a few times while feeling sorry for yourself after breaking up with your girlfriend.”

“Sounds like something from one of your films,” Martin teases. On screen, the tastefully nude leads are writhing and panting breathlessly over the sound of yearning violins. It’s all terribly passionate and extravagant. 

“Being wet and miserable is the epitome of sex appeal, I suppose,” Jon grouses. Martin taps a finger against his chin thoughtfully.

“I can see it. Remember last week when you forgot your umbrella and came home soaking? I could barely resist the urge to rip your clothes off, wrap you up in a towel, and make you hot cocoa.” 

“You didn’t resist the urge if I recall, you beast.” Jon is grinning at him now. “Plying me with biscuits and warm slippers.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining!” 

“Oh, speaking of biscuits, I completely forgot I got Jaffa cakes for tonight.” 

“You saucy minx!” Martin kisses his cheek soundly. “Nothing for it then but to make the tea.” 

Martin pauses the film and puts on the kettle, while Jon fetches the Jaffa cakes from his bag. They return with their tea to the star crossed couple, lying sated in a tangle of bedsheets, despairing of their doomed love. Olivia makes William swear dramatically that they will never speak of this again, that they will take this secret to their graves.

“That’s all well and good, but how’s she going to explain the front of her dress being gone when she gets back, hmm?” Jon demands, shaking a biscuit at the screen in accusatory fashion, before eating the whole thing in one bite. Martin can’t help laughing; he absolutely loves this man. 

“Tell them she got in a fight with a badger?” he suggests. Jon snorts, and nestles closer against his side.

“It would’ve saved a lot of trouble if he’d just made her a cup of tea instead,” he says sagely, and Martin can’t really argue with that. 

**Author's Note:**

> Jaffa Cakes are biscuits, don't @ me.


End file.
